Just a Normal Day
by Pinned back Wings
Summary: Lindsay has a secret. A secret she has kept from everyone in the gang, but when one of them finds out the awful truth, will he keep the secret or spill it out? ON HIATUS


_I never knew how bad it was;_

_I heard it did exist._

_I was appalled at this crime._

_That robbed youth_

_Of their, "special" time._

_I never knew how bad it hurt;_

_The bruises and scars aren't seen._

_And why somewhere along life's way,_

_The brutality of abuse_

_Has made you pay._

_I never knew how you felt;_

_Your self-esteem so low._

_I only knew you crept away,_

_And never let your feelings show._

_I never knew what I could do;_

_That I could help somehow._

_That all you needed was a friend;_

_Just someone to be your pal._

_But now I know that I can help;_

_I can make a difference, too._

_I'll stand with you; I'll shout with you,_

_And the rest can't say, "I never knew."_

_-Cindy M. Adams_

* * *

I hid my face from the rest of the world; I made sure it couldn't see the scars and hopeless amount of bruises that covered my face. Truth be told, everyone knew I was a klutz and knew I probably did, "trip down the stairs," or "run into a door." In the summer of 1967, the gang finally found out.

I was an average chick. I had an average life. My world, my everyday life, was ordinary … with the only exception being that I had been abused by my mom. It wasn't bad; it was only when she got drunk. You see, my dad died in a car crash a few years back, leaving my mother to deal with me and my younger brother by herself. Michael is turning two this month. He has my dad's black, shaggy hair and my mother's deep blue eyes. As for me, I had light honey-brown hair, deep brown eyes, and long eyelashes.

I often thought about my friend, Johnny Cade. He died a few years back saving little children from a church fire started down by the countryside. Then Dally went crazy and got himself shot. He could be a good guy as long as you didn't get on his bad side. Unless you were Johnny though, that was a hard side _not_ to get on.

* * *

I tossed and turned in my bed, thinking to myself. Eventually, I got bored and read the time, 6:56. I groaned slightly but then remembered it was a Friday. I shifted my feet to the cold, wood floor as I shuffled my feet to the nearest bathroom. I did my usual things: use the toilet, shower, brush my teeth, and brush my tangled hair.

I wrapped my towel tightly around my bust area as I slowly walked back to my bedroom. I quickly closed the door, dropping my towel and getting out underwear and a clean bra. Then I rifled through my closet and pulled out a skirt; it was short, but not too short. I zipped up and stuffed the pockets back inside so I didn't feel like a hobo. When I was done with zipping it up, I quickly grabbed a random blouse. When I finished buttoning my blouse up, I pulled on my jean jacket, slipping my arms through the holes. I eventually caked my face with make-up, hiding the bruises and small cut on my right cheekbone.

I turned and looked at the clock once more, 7:45. I knew I was going to be late, hoped my mom was in a good mood to drive me to school. Since school started at eight o'clock, I skipped breakfast and proceeded to slip on my black shoes. They didn't have a heel, thank god. I searched for my mom throughout the house and finally found her in the kitchen. She was making breakfast for my brother, and upon seeing me, she turned and sneered… kind of.

"Hello hun," she said, her tone not matching her words, as she served my brother his breakfast.

"Can you drive me to school today?" I asked. I was nervous in every way, I had a huge test coming up and I had to worry about my mother too. I saw the way she looked at me; her eyes were saying "no."

"No, it's your own fault for waking up late," she sneered. I flinched at the harshness of her voice and walked to the door. Without taking a second glance back, I ran out of the house, panicking about being late.

* * *

When I finally reached the school, I had 5 minutes to get to class, and was hoping my math teacher wasn't being an ass and taking roll already. I reached my locker, kicked it open, threw my backpack inside of it, and got out my math book, pencil, and notebook paper. I slammed it shut, knowing it would be jammed later in the day and rushed off to class. When I reached the door, the bell had rung and he started calling out names, for roll. I sneaked into the back row, taking my seat next to Ponyboy.

"Keith Mathews?" Mr. McHearthy called out. My ears perked up at the mention of Two-Bit's name; he hadn't been in all week. There was no answer as he checked him absent. He went down and up, finally calling people I knew.

"Ponyboy Curtis?" I heard a few socs or greasers snickering about his name.

"Here,"

"Lindsay Gray?" Mr. McHearthy's aggravated voice called out.

"Here!" I yelled at him. He hated me, I hated him; there you go. He kept going down the list and then he stopped and rolled his chair back and got up.

"Today we will be learning algebra equations and examples," he started writing down some things on the chalk board and let us write it down. I could hear small threats being thrown at each other, but nothing big. No one wanted to get Mr. McHearthy mad, he was hard ass teacher. I tapped my pencil down on the desk in the rhythm of "At Last," by Etta James. I smiled as someone shook my shoulder. I snapped my head over and saw Ponyboy.

"Time for second period," he smiled towards me. Gosh, he's got one darn nice smile.


End file.
